<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Dew from all Fields by SkyyeStrike</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018888">Dew from all Fields</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyyeStrike/pseuds/SkyyeStrike'>SkyyeStrike</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Bullying, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Farmer Jack, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Violence, Hero Complex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Build, jack has a crush</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:46:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyyeStrike/pseuds/SkyyeStrike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Gabriel’s grandmother passes away in the summer of their senior year, Jack takes it upon himself to personally bring deliveries of care packages up to the lonely little house atop the hill. Wasn’t that what good neighbors were for?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dew from all Fields</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>_______________________</span>
</p><p>
  <span>__________________________________________</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel was brought to the small town of Bloomington when Jack was the ripe age of 13. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack says brought, because Gabriel hadn’t moved out here by choice. When he rolled into the fields and hills of mid-Indiana with his parents, there was only one moving truck that coughed and sputtered it’s way up the hill, driven by an elderly hispanic grandmother. And when Jack races to the fence line, curious to inspect what was bound to be some new neighbors, he spies a sullen faced little boy, crunched down in the passenger seat with a brilliant mass of shiny black curls and a massive set of headphones. The glare that meets Jack’s from beneath that mop proclaims pretty strongly that the new kid in town would rather be anywhere else than little Bloomington, Indiana, that was for sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack has to stop racing the moving truck’s crawl once he gets to the edge of the fences, still too short to launch himself over them. But he follows those eyes that meet his in the side view mirror before they can disappear, and he can tell that they’re just as curious as his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The little house up the hill had been old and abandoned long before the Reyes’ had moved in. Jack had spent a lot of time with his friends, daring each other to go inside the beaten down little farm cottage. It’s shuddered windows and peeling paint made it feel like a horror movie house in comparison to the well kept farm fields and perfect picketed fences around town.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Watching a squat little moving truck making trips up the hill past his family’s estate with the apparent intention of living inside the haunted cottage? An amazement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother had watched the progress with him, standing at the window and remarking that it was about time someone fixed the little home up. Maybe they could have some real neighbors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But despite the fact that they family had finished moving in throughout the very dry, hot summer, Jack didn’t see anyone coming up or down the hill. He knew there had to be a little boy his own age who had moved in up there, he’d seen him! He’d heard his mother talk about him over dinner with his father, before his father changed the topic… So where was he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack always wanted new friends- all his school friends lived miles away.  He was fine making the hour or two treks to their houses and stuff, but someone closer by would be so great.  Now that he was growing up and becoming a man, like his father so proudly boasted at church breakfasts, he was needed around the farm, learning how to run things so one day he could do the same in his father’s place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack liked learning to run the farm. It was time consuming, but it made him feel responsible. Important, even. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having a friend that lived right up the road? To share it with? It would be so super cool- Jack just had to figure out a way to meet him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Summer changed to the harvesting season, until autumn brought the sudden shift of colors in the trees, and the threat of the school season came around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was still no sign of whoever lived in the house up the hill, but Jack wasn’t worried. All the kids in this area went to the same school- maybe he could just meet his new neighbor then!  Jack was patient- if his neighbor didn’t want friends just yet, Jack was more than happy to wait!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack giggles to himself, setting up another scarecrow dummy in the cornfield his father had carefully mowed into the twists and turns of a maze. Maybe he would even show up at his family’s farm</span>
  <em>
    <span> tonight</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They always had the biggest, best haunted corn maze in town, and with Jack helping to set it up this year, it was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrifying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sniggers again, this time at the thought of scaring the living bejeezus out of his friends and classmates. He had already picked out his costume and everything- a badass, torn leather jacket that he had smeared fake halloween blood all over, an ancient hockey mask that looked like something that would have terrified even Jason. And to top it off, an oversized hockey stick he could jump out waving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah. It was gonna be good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were only a few more touches to finish up on- the loud boombox that echoes creepy sounds out over the maze, the couple of fog makers scattered around, and of course, the buckets of candy every so often. Jack races around, flipping switches and filling buckets until the sun is almost set. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People are already showing up when he dashes through the house up the stairs, past his kid sisters getting ready- Becca was going as Wonder Woman, and little Mary was dressing up as a ‘butterfly fairy,’ like she’d insisted over and over and over to their poor, beleaguered mother. Jack nearly trips over her, bouncing around the hall smacking her sparkly fairy wand at everything within knee height. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack, slow down, you're going to break your neck!” His mother shouts to him, trying to pull down the hem of Becca’s superhero skirt. She shakes her head, blonde hair falling from her bun around her face as she chides her daughter. “Missy, you are only 11, what is with this outfit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack is already around the corner, as Becca complains. “Ma, don’t be such a prude!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s bedroom door slams closed a little harder than necessary and before he can hear his mom’s retort. His friends were gonna be some of the first people to come by, and he wanted to scare them real good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shucks out of his dusty white work t-shirt and into a fresher black one, the blood caked coat he’d procured going over top. It fit him surprisingly well, made him look buff, and older than he was, which Jack liked very much. The ripped jeans that had gotten dirty while he finished setting up the maze added pretty nicely to the look he wanted, so he just kept those on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he dug out the mask. It fit snugly around his head…. But his blonde hair kinda ruined the effect, didn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a frown, he takes the mask off, squeezes some of the leftover fake blood out into his palm and scruffs it through his hair, back and forth. The effect makes him look a bit like a hedgehog, with globs of gore mussed around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He puts the mask on, and paints two dark red stripes with his fingers across the eye hole and nose, like claw marks, and steps back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh yeah. That would definitely work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He marches out, and Mary, stops, dead still in the middle of the hallway in her frilly pink hair dress, and starts to shriek bloody murder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mary, Mary, what’s the- OH MYgoodness, </span>
  <em>
    <span>JACK</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” His mother rushes out, and when confronted with Jack in all his bloody hockey glory, nearly falls backwards, hand over her heart. Clucking, she scoops her wailing three year old up. “Take that outside- you nearly scared me half to death!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That means it’s working!” Jack says proudly, hands on hips. His voice sounds funny, a little echoey in the mask. Makes it ever cooler. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Becca peeks out from around the bathroom door, her plasticky red lipsticked mouth popping open in an ‘o.’ “Oh my gosh, that’s <em>sick Jack</em>!” She gushes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Jack is practically preening at this point, and struts his way back outside to retrieve the hockey stick he’d dug from all the junk his father kept in the back barn. Then, he wades his way out into the cornfields. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s father was really good at making corn mazes- he’d been doing it since he was a teen, and they got larger and more complex each and every year. Everybody in town came by on halloween to do the corn maze. Jack knew it inside and out from walking around, helping his father weave props and theatrics into hidden spots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finding his way is easy, even in the setting dusk that made all the shadows dark and the cornstalks bleached. A full moon halloween, rising up over the treeline- Jack grins, certain that that must mean good luck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds his first victims within minutes- it was Chrissy and Tina! Clutching their bags of candy close to them, chittering as they made their way along a path that definitely did not lead out. Jack stops, waiting for them to come closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-You sure this is the way?” Tina shivers, only a half step behind Chrissy, dressed as one of the sailor moon characters, her hair done up in short blond pigtails with bright ribbons. She’s so close to her friend that she’s nearly stepping on the backs of Chrissy white tennis trainers.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chrissy seems to be less scared, in a tennis getup that looks more like an actual uniform. “I thought I saw someone else go this way, there’s probably more candy!” She practically tugs Tina along with her, racing their way through the maze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack waits until they’re maybe, a foot or two away from him before he pops out of his hiding spot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“FOLLOWING ME DEEPER INTO THE MAZE?” He says, loud and growly, just like his father sounded when he was at his scariest. And damn, it must work because both Chrissy and Tina drop their bags, screaming and backing away. Tina stumbles backwards into the corn maze, flailing and whooping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack breaks down in laughter, doubling over and slapping his knees. Dang, if this was just the beginning of the night, he was about to have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>riot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that- </span>
  <em>
    <span>JACK?</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Chrissy recognizes him first, and Jack uses his thumb to push the mask up to his forehead. “God, you scared me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That only makes Jack laugh harder. “Man, that was so good!” He wheezes, and doesn’t even back away from the light slaps she’s laying on his back now. He deserves it- it was worth it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look so scary! Where did you get that stuff?” Tina says, approaching timidly. With pale trembling hands, she picks at some of the blood flaking off Jack’s jacket and shudders. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s so gross.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Candy’s up that way,” Jack says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Man, that was so good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tina and Chrissy look at him suspiciously. “Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Yeah, I’m sure. Just, don’t tell anyone else I’m in here-” Jack says, putting a finger to his lips in a hush movement, suddenly all grave and serious again. He pulls the mask back down by the eyeholes and picks up the deep dramatic voice again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have scaring to do.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chrissy gives a little squeal that’s more thrilled than scared at this point. “You’re so freaky, Jack! Good luck!” And they wave him off into the night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack scares three more people before he comes upon a small pack of his friends. And yes, he makes them squeal like absolute chickens when he creeps up behind them and grabs two of them by the shoulders, yanking them backwards into the mud and scattering the rest of them. Chickens.  He thinks maybe Max had even peed himself a little, which Jack will hold over the other kid for the rest of time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scaring people is easy when they’re so keyed up like this- and the later it got, the darker the fields became, and the easier it was to make people absolutely scream. He even got the drop on Becca and her friends when they eventually came into the maze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s wandering through the fields, thinking about joining his friends and getting some candy, practically whistling at his success when he comes upon a loner. Some kid walking, absolutely alone in the corn maze this late at night? He either had no idea what to expect, or he had absolutely no fear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s grin widens. He was about to change that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ducking low to the ground, Jack steps as silently as he can through rigid stalks of corn, weaving to avoid his jacket scratching against the drying sheaves. He’d chosen dark colors for a reason, and hunting with his father had taught him plenty about blending into the woods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s a few yards away, keeping pace with whoever it is, when he steps out onto the path, boots going cat-silent on the soft tread dirt. Dressed in a black cloak that billowed around his feet behind him, all Jack could tell was that he was about Jack’s height, probably somebody his age, maybe a little older. And they had no clue he was right behind them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His steps speed up, closing the distance. And just when he’s about to make his move, he grabs the hockey stick in both hands and raises it-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a whirl, something shoves Jack right in his chest and he goes backwards onto his ass with a ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>whoof-</span>
  </em>
  <span>!’ hockey stick flying free of his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, standing over him is the scariest freaking grim reaper that Jack has ever seen. The mask glowed in the moonlight, the bleached color of bone pulled down into long, aggressive lines like some avenging owl. The wide hood pulled so deeply low, it was just a shadowy figure, a halloween shade wandering in the dark. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a second Jack’s pulse thunders loud in his ears. Had he come across an actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>halloween ghoul</span>
  </em>
  <span>? But no, the fingers that latched into the jacket and shirt at his throat were very very real, lunged over him like some sort of hellsent avenging angel. Jack had no idea freaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>clue </span>
  </em>
  <span>who this was-!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which was a problem, because whoever it was looked three seconds from strangling Jack, fist drawn back and murderous intent seeping through his mask like an actual reaping wraith. That was about to knock Jack’s bloody lights out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Jack shouts, and, fast as he can, shoves his own bloodied mask off. It flies from his head into the dirt somewhere behind him, but Jack just keeps his hands raised up in the air. “It was a joke! A joke-!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently not fast enough. Maybe if he’s kept the mask on, it wouldn’t have hurt as much. Jack can’t even block before there’s a resounding crack and then, all Jack sees is stars. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gasps, clutches his nose and rocks back with the sudden overbright pop of pain. “Jesus christ, it’s a joke man, what the hell!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A… joke?” The hand in his shirt drops him, and with a lolling head and a burning nose clogged full of blood, Jack watches the grim reaper tear off his mask-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the kid from the moving van! The new Reyes’ kid who lived down the street, the one that Jack had been trying to meet all summer!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dang, he was even prettier than what Jack had glimpsed- all exotic, with curly hair that crowded his tan face beneath the hood’s blackened cowl. Jack tries to scramble to his feet and feels his head rush and his nose throb viciously in response, forcing him to stay down or throw up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t stop him from squinting upwards and trying to swipe his hands clean on his pants, sticking his hand directly upwards. His hand stays pretty gross- Jack was caked head to toe in mud, straw and well, real blood at this point. He’s hoping to offset with his absolute best, friendliest smile, framed by what was probably a pretty gruesome nosebleed, dirty smudge hand between them. “I’m Jack!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Reyes kid looks at him, and then down at his hand, eyebrows so high they’re gone beneath the fringe of his hair. He props his mask back over his forehead to regard Jack as if he had no idea what to make of the other boy. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. Something must have gotten knocked loose when Jack had been smacked, and now it’s jingling around inside Jack’s head along with all the other things he wants to say, and none of them makes a lick of sense. The only clear thing coming through his brain is how pretty the new kid is, how he glowed in the moonlight like some other worldly being, looking like he belonged from the netherworld with his mask and cloak and stubborn look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More than anything else, Jack wants this kid to </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t think you broke my nose, but you were damn close!” Jack’s pretty sure it’s not broken...  His Ma will have his hide if he comes back with both eyes blackened. He laughs at the kid’s impossibly more confused look, pushing himself up with his hands. He has to snort out a bit of blood that’s trying to seep down the back of his throat. “You got one hell of a swing, pal!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... Do I...  know you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah- “Uh, no, not really.” Jack amends quickly, hand wavering.  “Not yet, at least!” Wow, way to sound stalkerish-  it hurts to stay on his elbows, so her hunches forward to try and salvage this, but it only makes his nose throb.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I saw you moving in,” Well, that wasn’t helping Jack’s case. “I mean, my family saw you moving in. I wanted to meet you all summer-!” He snaps his mouth shut. What the hell was he saying? Jack takes a breath, and a step back, before he tries again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry- Hi. I’m Jack. Jack Morrison.” The introduction is pretty nasally, what with the blood clotting up into Jack’s sinuses and everything, but hopefully a bit less like some crazed psycho in a cornfield. Jack extends his hand once again. This time, after a second of thought, it’s taken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel Reyes.” The hand is firm, a lot cleaner than Jack’s with almost none of the callouses. It pulls him upright the rest of the way. Jack’s grin is bright as he shakes it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meetcha, Gabe!” He smiles at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Gabriel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack tries to copy the way Gabriel says it, all lilted and pretty, but it just comes out flat, like the way the church reverend said it. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can’t call you Gabe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel snorts at him. “If you have to. Your pronunciation is awful.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gee, thanks!” Jack says. He thinks Gabe’s accent is supposed to be latino, and Jack is positively terrible at spanish in school. “And thanks for comin’ to our family’s corn maze, Gabe. I was starting to think a family of ghosts had moved up to the hilltop!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seems to make Gabe’s mood darken, calculating expression closing off like a switch had been flipped. He turns away and starts walking.  “No. Just me and my abuela.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabe sounds kind of sad about that. Jack just met him, but he doesn’t want to see anyone sad, especially someone like Gabe. He trots to keep up, following Gabe down the little path that would, eventually, take them out of the cornfields. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Abuela?” Jack asks, catching up quickly. “What’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> A sigh. “My grandmother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You live with your grandmother?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Gabe says tartly, “I live with my grandmother. You got a problem with that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack gives him a non offensive smile, hands up and palms open. “No, none at all. Just wondering if I was gonna see her at some point too, ya know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel’s brow twitches, and he turns away quickly, keeping walking. For a while, Jack just lets them walk in silence, relishing in his victory. He knew nobody could resist a corn maze- Gabe had been bound to turn up and one point or another. Jack had known it, he’d just had to be patient, and bide his time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snickers at his own cleverness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Gabe asks, looking at him all funny-like. His mask was still pushed up, like a visor for a baseball cap held over his brow. It made his expression hard to tell, but Jack was imagining that expression was curiosity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack can’t keep the grin off his face. “It’s funny, I wanted to meet you for so long, I didn’t mean to do it by scaring you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t scared.” Gabriel defends quickly. He looks away from Jack, his hands shoved deep down in pockets that Jack hadn’t seen before and picking up the pace. Was Gabe embarrassed?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking carefully, Jack speeds his trot, nearly jogging to keep up with Gabriel’s long, ground-eating strides, fingers laced behind his head all casual like. He tries to sniff and regrets it immediately when it makes his whole face twinge in pain and a new trickle of blood run from his nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I guess you really weren’t. You scared the scrap outta me, though.” He chuckles,  touching his nose gingerly, maybe even a little bit reverently. He hadn’t lost a fight with any of his friends since he could remember, and Gabe had whupped him before he’d even known what was happening! He wonders if the blood had run down into his teeth.“I meant it when I said you have one helluva swing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, the strangest thing of the whole night happened- Gabriel laughs, just a bit. It's the first time Jack’s seen the other kid so much as crack a smile, but his laugh is amazing, all rumbly and low and gosh darn he looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re kinda weird, you know that?” Gabriel tells him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think somebody already told me that,” Jack acquiesces back easily. Realizing he was probably staring, Jack swallows and drags his eyes up and away from Gabriel. He looks at the sky- the moon made the stars pale in comparison, by he still tries to pick them out, for something else to focus on. “So, you... start school this fall?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack wants to slap his forehead. Of course he was, there was only one school around, where else could Gabriel possibly go?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess.” Gabriel says. He sounds sullen again. He kicks a rock and looks at Jack. “You already knew that though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caught. Jack's laugh is a little awkward this time. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you go there?” Gabriel asks, and the way he says it, his tongue curling against the ‘r’s and ‘l’s  something that Jack finds way too interesting. He stumbles over a root. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course!” He catches his step, bounding around until he’s walking backwards, facing Gabe as he talks, probably grinning like a hopeless fool. “I could, ya know. Show you around sometime?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thank god it’s dark because Jack can feel a flush rising up on his neck the more Gabriel looks at him, especially like that, with a knowingly cocky look and midnight dark eyes, the badass skull mask still pushed up and keeping his hood out of the way, letting him see as much of Gabe’s face as Jack could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, if you wanted to.” He tacks on, gracelessly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That must’ve been saying something right at least, because Gabriel laughs again, and it feels like warm coals have been dumped into the pit of Jack’s stomach, all cozy and wonderful. This kid had a voice like smooth honey, all glazed and pretty enough to match his looks...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re reaching the end of the maze. Jack can see the spooky purple lights from his house, a few people lingering in lawn chairs with plastic cups. Jack wishes they could make another turn and keep going, because really, he doesn’t know anything about Gabriel yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slows his steps, leans close. “So, what do you say, Gabriel?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re at the entrance now, the corn breaking out into the open of a more well-trod path. One of the smokemakers Jack had flipped on earlier belches more smoke around their ankles. Gabriel folds his arms over his chest, and his look across Jack’s face is assessing, focused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure. Why not.” He finally says, and Jack practically whoops for joy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sweet,” His grin is wide and devilish, probably bloodstained, but Gabriel doesn’t seem to mind. He holds his hand out again. “Friends then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t hesitate to take Jack’s hand. Their shake is solid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_____________________________________________________________________</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been over a year since then, and Jack can admit to himself that he and Gabriel haven’t really stayed all that close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel seemed to be a loner more than anything else, and Jack was very much not- he was popular in his grade, and his circle of friends was large. He knew everybody, and everybody in town knew Jack, the Morrison boy due to inherit the large, prosperous Morrison Farms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, that meant he and Gabe didn’t really run into each other that much. Gabe’s house was the closest neighbor to the Morrison estate, but Jack never saw him cut across the farm grounds. They didn’t really share that many classes together, but despite all of this, Jack still knew they were friends. He could just tell. Despite their differences, he and Gabe were pretty similar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever the honor roll was posted, ‘Gabriel Reyes’ name was almost always fighting for top placement next to Jack’s own and his genius best friend’s, Ana Amari. During gym class, when they all had to run laps around the football fields, it was pretty much always Gabriel who fell into step beside him, a feat that continued to be impressive when Jack began his extra training for track and they both began to outpace their classmates, a friendly competition that had Jack running faster and farther each time, pushing him to the top of the track line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wishes Gabriel would join track with him. Together, they could dominate the competition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jack didn’t have to hang out with Gabe to know that he liked loud music, different from the blaring country or american rock’n’roll that Jack was accustomed to hearing blared out of every pickup in town. Gabriel seemed to hate the school lunches, and avoided the lunchroom and the food inside every change he could, but he loved doritos- Jack caught Gabe eating them more than once in the hallway, or beneath his desk at the back of classroom, but only ever cool ranch or jalapeno style.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he knew that Gabriel liked being around him too! Jack could tell it in all these little insignificant ways, in the smiles he got during class when he caught Gabe’s eye across the aisle, or when then found themselves walking home together down the same stretches of road in quiet conversation, or even comfortable, companionable silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was in the way that, during one crisp morning last winter, Gabe had come across Jack while he was out in the woods tapping trees. It was one of the first real snowfalls of the winter, lying like a fresh blanket over the leafless forest, and instead of seeing Jack and continuing on his way, Gabriel had come over and asked Jack what he was doing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tapping for syrup,” Jack says dreamily, thinking that Gabriel looks cute all bundled up in a close knit skull cap and a scarf thick enough to envelop his chin and mouth. There was a snowflake or two caught on his dark lashes, but that only served to make him look even prettier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite being a gothic snowman, Gabriel was shivering; he looked cold. Jack was only wearing his checkered winter coat, a solid pair of gloves, and the satchel containing his remaining spigots. He’d heard a rumor somewhere that Gabriel had come from far out west, and way down south. Jack had lived in Indiana his whole life, and he liked the colder winters- wherever Gabriel had moved here from, it had to have been warm with the way he trembled like a leaf in the wind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tapping?” Gabriel asks, coming closer still. He was like a timid little wild animal, but hey, curiosity and cats, right? Jack smirks at that thought- His Ma always said he had a knack with wild animals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He holds out his hands, the hammer and spigot he had been about to drive home on display. “For maple syrup!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You make maple syrup?” Gabriel looks impressed, and that makes all sorts of happy butterflies erupt beneath Jack’s skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We sure do!” Really, Jack was only supposed to tap the trees- his father did the boiling and distilling, and maybe let Jack help with the bottling. “We sell it at the market, too!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s cool.” Gabriel says, hands stuffed down into his oversized black parka. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t know how to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wanna see?” Jack offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That makes Gabriel look up from where he’d been scuffing his boots into the snow. His eyes are warm and cocoa brown, deep and dark and lurid, just like he was against the black and white backdrop of the forest. So pretty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabe nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s heart flutters when Gabe comes closer, and he tries not to be nervous as he follows the path of the tree's thickest root and taps a vein a couple feet up. He snugs one of the long plastic tubes from his bag to the new tap’s spout and nestles a bucket at the base of the tree, well enough that it doesn’t get knocked over. When he’s done, he steps back, letting Gabe admire his handiwork. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Gabe asks him skeptically. His confusion screams city boy, and that only makes the whole situation even more endearing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it!” Jack confirms, and pats the side of the maple, bark scratching beneath his glove. “The tree here does the rest of it, and I just come back and pick up the buckets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel seems fascinated, and he looks closer at the assembly. “Can I help?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack can barely contain his glee. Gabriel wanted to help him? It would cut his work in half, but he could spend the rest of the day with him! He’d have to teach him, but that thought only made Jack even more eager. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure!” He says, a little quickly and a little loudly for the quiet nowhere of the forest. But Gabriel’s smile is just so nice, so grateful that Jack is nearly hopping up and down in his joy, explaining in a flurry which trees were the sugar maples, how to hammer the spigots not hard enough to crack and break them, but enough to get to the sugar vein. And when he has to lean over and take Gabe’s hands to readjust the spigot he taps himself, Jack’s heart threatens to jump right up out of his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They tap trees within earshot of each other until Jack’s wheelbarrow stash of buckets is empty, and Gabriel looks just as satisfied as Jack feels. They high five, and Gabe’s cheeks and nose are red with the cold, his breath coming in puffs of white cloud. He looks happy, and it’s such a nice expression on him, that Jack doesn’t ever want it to go away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel was more different than anyone else Jack had ever met in his life. He was gorgeous and interesting and smart and capable. He was quiet, always listening, but funny when he spoke up. And all of these reasons made it so easy to be interested in him, to know what went on behind his quiet, dark looks and perpetual hoods and beanies that made up Gabriel Reyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of this, Jack reasoned, was why he just inherently </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gabriel so much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s high summer now, and the growing season has been good. The forest is thick with rich greenery, verdant with it’s lushness and Jack races through, down the winding deer track that leads to the gorge. He’s just turned fifteen, and his friends were waiting for him- he was already two hours late, but the hay delivery for the livestock had arrived and Jack’s father was adamant about him helping load every single bale up into the barn loft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack pants as he runs, feet falling in a steady rhythm through the familiar pathways he’s wound through all his life, picking his way as easy as any forest critter he came across. He gets to the gorge in record time, skidding to a stop across a scurry of shale to where Jonas was sitting with his water bottle, looking winded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, look who finally showed up!” Jonas says, knocking a cheers type of motion in Jack’s direction. Jack’s grin is guileless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got here as fast as I could, man. Don’t be like that.” He pants, catching his breath, wondering if he can nab some of Jonas’s water. He glances around at the empty clearing where they always meet. “Where’s everybody else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonas gives a breathless sort of lap. “Out there playing predator and prey.” He sighs and pours the rest of what's in his water bottle over his head, making his red hair plaster flat to his skull. “I’m out though. Too much for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So much for asking for some water. Jack settles on the log beside Jonas. “They started without me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Predator and Prey was one of Jack’s favorite games, and he made an excellent predator. No fair that they’d started the game without him- He knew the woods like the back of his hands, and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His friends were probably scared to go up against him, the cowards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they’re all out there by the waterfall, man.” Jonas waves in that general direction, farther up the ravine. He gives a huffing laugh. “Only one little rabbit, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonas saying it like that rubbed Jack the wrong way for some reason, but he takes off in the direction of the waterfall anyways. His friends were loud and had no sense of the hunt compared to Jack- he was certain he would find them easily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does. They’re a little ways off from the waterfall and it’s cascade pool- Tim, Max, and Farrell, all gathered in a circle, talking and looking serious and wild-eyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack jogs right up to them, slowing when he approaches. “Hey guys- whoa, it must be an intense game.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All three of them are covered in mud and twigs- Max looks like he lost a fight with a tree, his lip beginning to swell up from whatever he had run into. Jack’s eyebrows raise when the three of them collectively just watch him come up the side of the hill. Confused nerves flicker in Jack’s stomach. “What’s up, guys?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell is the first one to break the silence. “Not much Jack, where have you been? We coulda used your help earlier!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Jack asks, trying to figure out why they felt so weird. On edge. Max even looked a little scared… What was going on? “Jonas said you guys were playing Predator and Prey, not boxing,” He tries to laugh. Nobody laughs with him and it dies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell looks at Max as if he’s just noticing the other boy’s split lip. “Maxy was being prey and fell into a tree on his way down, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max sniffs, and it looks like it hurts his nose. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack looks between them, wondering what the hell was up. “Well, who are y'all playing with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the best part,” Tim steps up, tall and gangly. “We don’t even know- it’s like they’re black ops ninjas, or terrorists even!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack… doesn’t know what to make of that. “... You don’t know who you’re playing against?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three boys look between each other. Jack really doesn’t like the way they keep doing that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell shrugs. “Games over when we find the last one. You helping us or not, Jackie boy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack frowns. This… didn’t feel like a game of Predator and Prey. But these were his friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure. You got any idea where they’re hiding?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The four of them split up in different directions from the falls, even though Max doesn’t really seem like he wants to go out alone. Their games of Predator and Prey definitely got rough; Jack had once tumbled off a ledge and nearly broken his arm, but it wasn’t supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>scary.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s thinking hard on that when he hears a branch snap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Jack drops down. He’s been with his father out hunting enough times by now to know the snap of a twig means something big moving through the undergrowth, heavy enough to displace the forest floor. Could be a deer. Could be their Prey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack slides up against a boulder, pressed back against the mossy surface beneath the cover of a wide-leaved bush, creeping along and surveying his surroundings for anything out of place. This deep in the woods, everything smelled like thick peatmoss, and the footing was soft and treacherous. With the foliage grown in so thick and dappled sunlight casting shadows over everything beneath the thick canopy, Jack has to stay increasingly still to search for any giveaway movements at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something flickers, moving against the wind.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There, over by a cluster of fallen logs, where the edge of the woods became softer and the grasses turned everything into marshland, was the top of a hat. Barely visible amidst everything, except for when it shifted again, ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gotcha. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s silent as a panther, making his way through the forest up towards his quarry.  The rustling of leaves softens any extra sounds that eke from beneath his boots, and Jack carefully avoids any branches that could break, stepping over every stone that could roll. The closer he gets, the more he’s certain it’s the mud covered skullcap of whoever was hiding.  There was no one else it could be besides their prey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He should maybe shout for the others, but he’s confident he can wrassle whoever it is all by himself, end the game all on his own and meet back up with the others, triumphant for round two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah, he could totally do this himself. Nobody in town could outrun Jack Morrison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I gotcha!” He proclaims loudly, popping out of the ferns behind the log and hopping his way over to prevent any escape. But instead of flurried laughter, the stench of fear is overwhelming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pressed up against a fallen log and a stump that was more rot than wood was Gabriel. And instead of laughing and trying to run away for a chase like Jack would have had </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> been discovered by his friends, Gabriel’s eyes widen in surprised terror, and he throws up his hands in a flinch. He’s bleeding from pretty much everywhere and smeared in river mud, still breathing hard even though he must have been crouched down in the loam for a minute now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Gabriel sees it’s Jack, his hands lower a tad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack?” He sounds shocked. His brown eyes, the pretty ones Jack can’t help but admire all the time, narrow down to just slits. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you with them</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Them?” Jack echoes slowly, wheels in his head clicking back and forth, having trouble taking in Gabriel’s frantic, desperate posture, the way he’s sunk down in the mud, jeans ripped as badly as his shirt. He’s bleeding from his hairline and it’s made track marks down the side of his face, adding to the hunted animal look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Prey.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack swallows, resisting putting the puzzle pieces together before he knew just what had happened. He crouches down and takes Gabe’s hand to see a pretty nasty gash that goes up Gabe’s wrist and palm, like he’d tried to catch himself against something and missed horribly. He holds tight when Gabriel tries to jerk from his hands. “Gabe, what happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel just looks at him. He looks shaken wild-eyed. But more than scared, he looks angry and uncertain. “You gonna shout for your friends?” He asks Jack lowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Jack hears it- someone else crashing through the underbrush, making cooing noises like they were calling a cat to come back. Jack glances up, and a little way away is Farrell, pushing his way through the underbrush, making far too much noise and not looking in nearly the right places. He was too far away from the two of them to catch sight of Gabriel and Jack, but Gabe sinks down flatter to the earth anyways. His eyes hold Jack’s in a silent question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack can’t believe it. He doesn’t want to. His friends were… hunting Gabriel. And when they caught him- Jack looks at Gabriel’s state and everything inside of him feels like frigid ice and burning, angry magma at the same time. Jack wouldn’t let them catch Gabriel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he rolls out of his hiding place, and up onto his feet into plain view. Gabriel gives a petrified, betrayed hiss that Jack has no choice but to brush off, jogging his way over to Farrel with a bright wave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you find him?” Farrell cuts to the chase immediately. He sounds hungry, and angry; a bad mix. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack shakes his head. “Nah, there’s not even tracks. You sure that they’re around here? Any idea who it is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe away from the others, Farrell would confess. Maybe this was some sort of misunderstanding that Jack just hadn’t made sense of yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, Farrell's fists ball up by his sides. “That </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn little mud-rat</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He squeezes out, thundering through the brush, letting Jack subtly guide him far away from the group of logs Gabriel crouched behind.  “When I catch that friggin’ ‘spic, he’s dead!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack stops, stunned. Farrell keeps stalking forward without him, but Jack can’t even believe what he’s heard. They knew it was Gabriel, and they were chasing him down because he was… hispanic?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He follows his ‘friend’ a few paces behind, trying to stay focused. Maybe he was just… not seeing the picture clearly. “Dead? What’d he do to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell throws up his hands. “He’s a fucking rat, that’s what!” He crashes through a bush, scares a bird that makes him reel backwards and only fuels his anger. He whirls on Jack and pushes a finger into Jack’s chest. “Don’t tell me you don’t notice, golden boy, he sticks out like a sore thumb! He thinks he’s goddamn above us, but he’s not! Thinks he’s better than everybody all the damn time….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell rumbles off, still complaining as he thrashes uselessly through the woods, getting farther and farther away from his target. Jack lets him go, processing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He… had to get Gabriel out of here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes his way back through the foliage and, once he’s confident that Farrel won’t notice his immediate absence, breaks into a run. But when he skids back into the marshy clearing, Gabriel isn’t there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He hisses. The others were still way too close for him to call too loudly. So instead, he starts making his way up and out of the ravine, the way that Gabriel would probably try to take back to his house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack would normally enjoy a trek like this. Summer was one of his favorite times of year. Games like this were supposed to be fun… but nothing about Gabriel, bloodied and cowering behind a log while four others hunted him down said fun to Jack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to crouch down and grab handholds to pull himself up one of the rockier faces near the top of the ravine, and wonders how Gabriel managed to do it. If he’d somehow passed right by the other guy without knowing it. If one of his old buddies found Gabe, he’s sure they would have shouted to alert the others. Even messed up, Gabe was too much of a threat for any one of them to take on-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You came back,” comes a huffing greeting off to Jack’s left. Jack scrambles the rest of the way sideways to Gabriels position, sitting at the edge of the climb to rest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I came back,” He says, and when he sees how much Gabriel is sagging, “Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Your ‘friends’ happened.” He rubs at his face, but it only makes the blood and mud smear together over his cheeks and tug a wince out of him. When he pulls his hand from his side, there’s blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, how bad is that?” Jack says, crouching down and picking at the slashed remnants of Gabriel’s shirt, trying to see through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel shrugs, bending forward, and Jack sighs. “Let me see,” he demands, pulling at Gabriel’s shirt until the other helps him hike it up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What</span>
  <em>
    <span> the fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened?” Is all Jack can manage to squeeze out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beneath the tattered remains of Gabriel’s band shirt, his whole side looked like Gabriel had been hit by a truck. There were drags of scratches and bruising that was already beginning to blossom into darkly mottled purples and blacks, and they traveled all across his side, crawling down his hip beneath his waistband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel gives an exhausted, painful shrug. “They threw me down the ravine, so it probably could have been worse-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They... they-!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was actually off the waterfall,” Gabriel admits, exhaling like the air from a popped balloon escaping. His fingers fold in defeat. “And they had to chase me because I didn’t just stay down there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The-” Jack chokes, speechless. He’d never realized that rage was a tangible taste, but it was a strong, metallic bitterness in his mouth, potent enough to drown in while he stared at Gabriel, who looked so broken. Gabriel, who’s beautiful smile was a cast in fatigue and sadness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack was… gonna beat the shit out of them. He’s kind of always considered himself a pacifist, aside from the regular countryboy scrapping that every lad learned young. And yet, the thought that he would beat the ever loving fuck out of each one of those kids wasn’t even a surprise to him, more just a certain acknowledgment that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>would happen</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers skim Gabe’s side and he is more than certain about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabe flinches at even Jack’s light touch, and he snatches Jack’s fingers in a lightning fast grip. Jack glances up, worried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hurts,” Gabriel explains with a small shrug, and if Jack didn’t know better, maybe even a small flush across his cheekbones. He lets his shirt fall back down into place. Jack takes Gabriel’s hand, and waits for Gabriel to meet his eyes once again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna kill them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel sputters a disbelieving bark of a laugh. “Oh yeah, hotshot? Have fun with that one.” And then he has to stop laughing, clutching his side which no doubt hurt like a bitch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack was gonna do more than beat the fuck out of them- he was going to ruin them. How could any human being be so cruel to another?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean it,” He professes. “This is cruel, and awful, and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel snorts. “So you’re the hero come to the rescue? They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They… they had been. Jack didn’t really think so anymore, not if he had anything to say about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not anymore.  Fuck them- four on one is a stupid fight, and they didn’t even tell me who we were looking for.” God, he’d joined right in on the manhunt for Gabe without even thinking about it, without even questioning- what was wrong with him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Off in the woods, there’s shouting, and Jack thinks he hears his name in the mix. He shakes his head. “C’mon, we gotta get you back home before they think to look this far.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel shuffles up to his feet, and it looks like it hurts, but he’s surprisingly steady on his feet. “You don’t have to walk me home, prince charming. I’m sure I can get back just fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no way Jack was letting Gabriel trek back alone. Besides, what else was he going to do? Run </span>
  <em>
    <span>back </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the racist assholes that had been flushing his friend out of the woods like it was hunting season?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of- those voices were definitely getting closer. And if Gabriel’s widened look was anything to go by, he had noticed too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, two against three is way better odds than three against one. I’m coming with you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” There’s no question in the way he says it to Gabe, and with limited time, he really hopes the other boy will just go with it, and let Jack help him out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, after a tense moment of conflict, Gabriel does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” He glances out at the woods, into the ravine they just climbed out of, and a flash of fear passes his features again. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They climb over the ravine edge, one after the other, and as quickly as possible Jack tails Gabriel all the way back to the edge of where their property ran together, the electric cattle fences of Jack’s estate with the worn pickets of Gabe’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The house up on the hill is a dark shadow, outlined against the setting afternoon sun, when they finally slow down. Gabriel’s breathing hard, much harder than Jack, and Jack is certain that it hurts something fierce. He wishes so much he could just bundle Gabe right up, never let anything like that happen ever again. “Listen, Gabe-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel slows to a stop at the edge of the trees, looking at Jack who is hanging back. Jack’s father would be pissed if he knew how close Jack was to the Reyes’ property right now, against his father’s explicit orders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack shakes his head. That stuff didn’t matter right then. He’s deadly serious when he addresses Gabriel. “Be careful. And if you ever get in a spot like that again, you come get me. I’ll be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel is silent. They’re a few paces apart, but Jack feels like there’s a chasm there that he hadn’t noticed before, and Jack has been thrown a rope bridge. He wonders if he tosses one end of the bridge across and holds onto the other, will Gabriel catch it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gabe?” Jack says, when Gabriel still hasn’t said anything. Gabriel’s eyes flash, and in the low twilight, they’re nearly indistinguishable from the darkness. “I’m serious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will be there for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabe comes back towards Jack, back into reaching distance. He peers at Jack’s face and Jack tries desperately not to blush and just how close he is. And after a second, Gabriel just leans back and gives him a curt nod. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack supposes that's the best agreement he’s going to get, and it doesn’t make him feel all that much better. Gabe was still shaken, his skin ashy at the edges, but he didn’t seem too phased about the near death ordeal- it made Jack think that this maybe happened more often than Gabriel was letting on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack was going to make sure that stopped, anyway he could. He watches Gabriel all the way up to his house before heading back home to the Morrison estate. He’d never met back up with his old ‘friends,’ and he’s sure that Tim at the very least would suspect something, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care what they thought anymore- opinions from trash like that didn’t matter in the least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What mattered, was plotting some decent revenge. For Gabe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_______________________________________________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how involved Jonas was in the chase, and since he had already ‘tapped out’ by the time Jack arrived, he is spared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Top of the list is Farrell, though. Jack is certain that the red-headed boy was the ringleader, as he usually was on most of their escapades, and for leading this one, Jack wasn’t sure he would ever forgive him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He eats lunch at the same table as Farrell and a bunch of their other friends, and it only takes a few seconds for Jack to get under the table in search of a dropped pencil. And while he’s down there, he casually threads the laces of Farrells shoes first around each other, and then around the leg of the chair, loose enough that Farrell probably wouldn’t notice what Jack had done too quick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pops back up at the table, brandishing the pencil that had been in his pocket the whole time with triumph. “I got it, sorry, sorry…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hopes that Ana, who’s giving him an analytical look across the table, doesn’t try to say anything for this to work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, it’s just a matter of waiting until Farrell’s back turns, twisting in his seat to throw a slice of apple at his crush Zoe, across the way. Farrell’s laugh is brash and obnoxious, and he doesn’t notice a thing when Jack very casually dumps two hefty packets of salt into his milk carton. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ana sucks in a sharp breath. Lena, who catches him just at the tail end of the act as Jack is crumpling the little paper packets back into his pocket, echoes Ana’s gasp with an inhaled, “JACK-!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea?” Jack says brightly, matching her volume, finger to his lips. “You needed more help with that trig, Lena?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She coughs, and he can see the laughter on her face at the realization of his prank. Maybe, if she played this off right, Jack would tell her the whole story. “Yeah, actually, that would be great!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ana’s eyes follow him around the table to Lena’s side. He would definitely give Ana the whole story- she’d probably get a kick out of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s less than a minute later when Farrell goes to take a massive swig of his milk, winking at Zoe as he does it, and Jack gets the full pleasure of watching his face screw up like a lemon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell chokes, snorting salted milk from his nose and down his shirtfront, in a putrid explosion that sputters everyone else at the table into a reign of silence. Ana has her mouth covered in silent shock, but Jack can’t even stop himself from coughing out a laugh in surprise at the absolutely perfect reaction. He should have figured out a way to film this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell glares over the table at Jack- probably smelling something fishy was up, since Jack was the only one who seemed to be stuffing down snickers openly. He’d been suspicious and leery of Jack since he’d disappeared from their little manhunt game the other day- but with all eyes on Farrell and no solid proof that Jack had done anything, he couldn’t just up and accuse Jack either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farrell uses his shirt to wipe his mouth and nose, glaring around the table in indignation. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What’re you all looking at</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” he grouses, and slams the carton with the rest of his trash on the lunchtray before standing to throw it out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would have been embarrassing enough if Farrell had just tripped and fallen on his face, right there in the middle of the lunch room. He had already snorted milk right in front of his crush and friends, but like all good karma, instead of just tripping, Farrell trips, stumbles, flings his arms to catch himself and succeeds in tossing his lunch everywhere. The salted milk flies in a beautifully tragic arc above it all, dousing Farrell as in slow motion, he tumbles forward and directly face first into the trash can. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s better than a scripted clown act. It’s not worth keeping himself from laughing when Lena has positively broken down into howling guffaws and the rest of the lunchroom is laughing uproariously. Even Ana was laughing hysterically behind the hand that covered her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trashcan collapses and rolls to its side, spewing trash, lunch remnants, and an angry hellcat that was Farrell onto the floor. He’s covered in condiments, and when he looks down at himself hecticly gags and tries to crawl from the mess. He gaze is murder on Jack’s as he rushes from the lunchroom, tail between his legs, but he must not say anything to anyone, because Jack is never called down to the office. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim is easier. He was a follower, through and through, and not all too booksmart. Jack just had to hand over the three late assignments that Tim had asked him to do with completely incorrect test answers, before Farrell's grades started to take a dive. And when he tries to threaten Jack over it and Jack played dumb, seemed to take a hint and stopped asking for Jack to do extra work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Combined with Farrell's murderous whispering about the lunchroom incident and Jack, the fear that something worse would happen to him had Tim giving Jack a wide berth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max, he gets in the locker rooms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max has always been a slow changer after gym class, a more self conscious thicker boy, he had massive spectacles that he cleaned very carefully before and after to keep them from steaming. He always was the gossiper of their group- whatever Max found out, he always relayed to his group of friends as quickly as he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just what Jack wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Getting the drop on Max is easy, and Jack does it after pretty much everyone else has filtered out of the locker rooms, even Gabriel, who had given him a very slow look. His side had indeed turned many different shades of color, like ink stains marbling his dark toffee skin in all the wrong ways. It looked worse than that time Bella, his Pa’s moodiest mare had nailed him in the ribs and cracked two. Jack grit his teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He definitely waited until Gabriel left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, hand flat on the back of Max’s open locker, Jack slams using all his force and slams it shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max yelps, nearly losing his fingertips- but Jack wouldn’t be quite that cruel. Not like some people he seemed to know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Maxie, how ya feeling?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max gives Jack a confused, offended stare. “Jesus Jack, don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>scare</span>
  </em>
  <span> a guy like that. You know I got asthma.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack nods, “Oh yeah! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>forgot</span>
  </em>
  <span> about that.” He levels his gaze at Max and pins the other boy flat to the metal lockers behind him with it. “You know, your asthma didn’t really seem to be bothering you the other day. When we were all playing Predator and Prey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh-oh, yeah!” Max seems to register that he’s in danger, and his eyes dart back and forth around the locker room. But there’s only stragglers left, and no one that would want to interfere with Jack. He stammers, “Y-you it was just a real n-nice day out, Jack, and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s hand makes a walk up Max’s chest- it could be intimate in other circumstances, but right now, it made the other boy ‘s excuses peter out in a pathetic warble. This late into school, Max was still a late bloomer, pudgy around the cheeks and defensively aggressive about the fact. Jack was not. He easily towered a couple of inches extra over the other boy, filled out from years of riding horses, lifting hay bales and planting fields on the farm. Jack’s disarming grin turns more feral than friendly when absently plucks at a fuzz from the front of Max’s t-shirt and feels the other boy start to </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweat. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You remember that time on Halloween when I made you piss yourself, Maxie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even under threat, Maxie still managed to look indignant. “Hey- you scared me real good, but we agreed-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That I wouldn’t share it.” Jack finishes for him. They had, like the pals they were. Jack was just the kind of person who didn’t embarrass or snitch on his friends like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t consider himself friends with them anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack hums. “Listen, Max. I decided I really don’t like Predator and Prey anymore.” It’s almost amicable if it weren’t for the anger that was like steel beneath Jack’s skin and lends a nice edge of iron to his voice.  “We’re all grown now, and there’s no need to play kids games anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max looks confused. “What- Jack, what’re you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack snatches the front of Max’s shirt and drags him down, off balance,  and shoves away Max’s hands when they windmill, trying to find support on Jack’s shoulder. “I also don’t like y’all picking on Gabe all the time.” He says, faster, because the bell would only hold off so long. “And if I catch you guys chasing him down like a</span>
  <em>
    <span> fucking animal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, let’s just say that me being scary for halloween will be nothing compared to what I’ll do to y’all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max’s eyes go wide, and he gives a panicked squeak, losing the fight with his balance and forced to hand limp at Jack’s mercy. His head bobs up and down over and over, ready to agree to anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack lets him go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max crashes down and back into the lockers, hitting them with a bang and staring up at Jack. He looks like he might piss himself again, shrunk down and mute in the face of the very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> real threat Jack was posing. They were completely and utterly alone right now- the next class wasn’t due to show up for another few minutes, and if Jack had decided to go through with his original threat and beat the fuck out of Max, no one would know. There would be no one to catch him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He squats down, smile never even moved from his face, and pats Max’s chest twice.  The other boy is scared enough that his whole body flinches both times, like a jumpy kitten. “Good talk!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like he’s jolted from a trance, Max stumbles and gushes his agreement to the conditions, scrabbling to gather his belongings and get away from Jack, nearly tripping over his still untied sneakers on the way out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack just watches him, job well done. And adds as an afterthought,  “You can tell the others that, too!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max would definitely tell them- there was no way he wouldn’t. Work smarter, not harder, Jack’s Pa always told him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that, most of Jack’s old friend group started to avoid him. That was more than fine with Jack, since didn’t want to be friends with a pack of intolerant nitwits anyways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still had Ana and her friends. And he had Gabe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabe who met his eyes across the hall with a look  when he saw Jack follow a terrified Mac out of the locker rooms a few minutes later.  Standing at the end of the hall, absolutely still in his dark wash jeans and black hoodie like a rock amidst a river, it was impossible to miss the way Gabriel’s eyes followed him. Jack just touched his brow with two fingers, a quiet salute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will be there for you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Jack had Gabriel’s back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when Gabriel gives him a solid, grateful nod, it was all worth it. That nod made all of it worth it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>________________________________________________________________________</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The fall festival of the year he’s due to graduate, Vincent Liebman asks Jack to homecoming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent was the up and coming quarterback of the year- tall and handsome, with honey and chestnut hair and kind, smiling eyes. He was not only a student ambassador, but also part of the robotics club. He was smart and dashing in the stereotypical, princely ways that Jack had always envisioned himself being around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course Jack says yes, starry-eyed at the prospect that someone so winning and popular could possibly want him like that. The gay pickings in the hum-drum little town of Bloomington were impossibly slim, and somehow, Vincent Liebman had asked him, Jack Morrison, out on a date.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When they came out to his friends as a couple a month into the relationship, all of their friends said they were a perfect, matching couple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack somehow saw less of Gabe than he ever had before. Between farm work, school that was begging his attention for colleges, and Vincent- nearly all of his time was taken up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sees Gabe in the halls though. Or down passing in the fields while Jack worked and Gabe headed wherever it was Gabe seemed to disappear off to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does catch sight of Gabe at the Peach festival. Just a moment of him, while Jack is sitting at a picnic table with Angela and Ana and Vincent, sharing a pizza together and laughing before trying to find another ride to go on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, there is Gabriel- it was like a sixth sense Jack had to know whenever Gabe was around, and he would know just where to look, just what direction to find Gabriel in. There he was, settled across the expanse of park that people milled through, buying corn dogs and playing games, Gabriel was sat at one of the park benches beneath an apple tree in his typical black hoodie, even though the lingering summer heat must make it overwarm. He didn’t seem like the fair participating type, but Jack isn’t really surprised that Gabriel is a people watcher. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Gabriel catches Jack staring back, he offers a wry smile and a mock salute with his half eaten kettle corn bag, an echo of Jack’s from before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack smiles to himself, feeling warm. Gabriel was so cool, he was glad they were friends. Gabe was like an enigmatic shadow, right before Jack but always just out of reach, and in his ripped jeans and combat boots, he was like some bad boy wet dream. Maybe he should invite him over to the table to hang out for a while? Maybe this time Gabriel would say yes!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you giggling at, sugar?” Vincent asks, bumping shoulders with Jack and settling a possessive arm around Jack’s shoulders.  Summer agreed with Vincent very well, adding red highlights to his hair and freckles to his hometown face. It fits with his devil-may-care smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack returns the grin. He had his own bad boy, right here in his arms. “Nothing,” He answers, cozying in closer to the best boyfriend he could have asked for. “Just saw a friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get a room you two, before I throw up,” Ana grumbles, coming back to sit down with a fresh order of cheese-covered curly fries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That makes Jack flush- he’s never dated anyone so openly, but his friends knowing about it makes being with Vincent so easy and fun. He snatches at Ana’s curly fries in retaliation and she laughs, trying to hold them up out of his reach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jack looks back, Gabriel is gone, and the bench empty. But Jack knew what he saw- they were definitely still friends, and if Jack wasn’t wrong, Gabriel had his back as much as Jack had Gabe’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_________________________________________________________________</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Junior year had been overwhelming, and finally draws to a close, much to Jack’s relief. Looking at his future options, at colleges and potential scholarships was overwhelming, and juggling everything that Jack wanted with the pressures of what everyone else wanted for him was enough to make a grown man cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Summer break gives him time to think, time to focus on the easy, daily tasks of helping out around the farm and less on his looming studies and decisions that had deadlines that never seemed to slow down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s Ma wanted him to stay close to home of course. She had suggested more than once just going to Indiana State University, as local as a big college for get, just to get his education out of the way and come back. Jack’s father didn’t seem to care as long as he ended up with some kind of degree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack himself didn’t really know what he wanted. He didn’t really want to just go to community college, or a local college- small towns were nice and all, with the communities and friends he was never in shortage of, but he felt like there was something more he was missing. There was a whole world out there that Jack felt like he’d never tasted, and before he settled in at the farm, he was determined to at least try something different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Musingly, Jack thinks he wants to see the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders what Vincent wants. Probably the same as his Ma- for Jack to stay close to home, probably take over the farm together when Jack came of age, so that they could farm side by side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But just thinking about what his father would say if Jack brought home Vince to help him run the farm was enough to make him shake his head at that idea. Jack didn’t bring up his sexuality at home. He was sure his Ma wouldn’t mind, in her usual understanding way, but his father was hit or miss. There was little doubt in Jack mind that he would never allow Jack to take over the generations old Morrison family estate with a gay lover and no chance of a future Morrison heir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack sighs, lazing back in a haypile, watching the clouds go by as he chews a lonesome stalk of green hay.  Maybe he and Vincent could just start their own farm instead, let Becca have the Morrison state for herself. That would be fine, and then he could just visit Becca there whenever he wanted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking of Vince made Jack tired. Summer gave him a break to get away from his boyfriend as well, who was turning out to be very high maintenance. Vince took up </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of Jack’s time- he hadn’t realized that dating was almost as much work as a full time job, but with Vincent gone at boot camp for the summer, that left Jack with a lot of extra thinking time on his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was nice though to have the handsome school quarterback at his side. Jack was set not only to be valedictorian, but probably prom king as well this upcoming year, and having Vince to share it with would make the run easy. If Jack kept up track and winning, he could have his choice of any schools anywhere at all in the world, and that was a mouth-watering prospect to think of.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything would work itself out, Jack was certain. Vince would come back from bootcamp, and they’d go through their senior year, and Jack would go to college with him, and everything would work out. Jack could honestly say that he had never been happier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, in the early fall just before their senior year really starts, Gabriel’s grandma dies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack hadn’t even found out until a week later, at the saturday breakfast table. Saturday mornings were always the best- with no church service and brunch to attend, his mother always cooked them an extravagant breakfast that Jack always managed to gorge himself too full on. And like every Saturday morning, his mother relayed the town’s weekly gossip back to Jack’s father, who listened in his regular characteristically tolerant silence, reading the newspaper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Today’s breakfast was waffles. In her frilly farm apron, Jack’s mother looked like something out of a rural housewife magazine,  demure, pleasant and well-mannered. She hums a little, pouring and flipping out waffles  into a buttered, sizzling hot waffle iron one by one, and piling them onto plates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wets a cloth while the waffle cooks and sets about wiping down Mary’s syrup-sticky fingers. “You know, I think that poor boy in the house up the hill is living up there all alone, now that Mrs. Reyes is gone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack stops, his syrupy bite of waffle halfway to his mouth. “Gabriel?” He asks, stunned. Gabriel’s grandma had </span>
  <em>
    <span>died?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His father grunts and doesn’t even look up from the paper. “She was getting on in years. In a better place now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harsh. Jack wants to be annoyed at his father, but instead he finds himself feeling sick to his stomach. How had he not known? Thinking back over the past few weeks, he realizes that Gabriel really hadn’t been in school all that much… had his grandma been sick? Jack had never even asked- he hadn’t even noticed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still,” His mother tuts at Mary and tells her to be still. Mary was almost six and still fussed like a toddler. “He’s so awfully young to be up in that house all alone, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack feels cold. Gabe was living up there all alone?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That boy is bad luck,” His father points out, like that was all the explanation needed. He folds the edge of his newspaper, and Jack can feel when his father gives Jack his evaluating side eye- the one he used when someone was trying to sell him a new foal and he ferreted out whatever it was being hidden about the deal. When Jack was little, he and Becca had joked their father was secretly a mind reader. “Isn’t he in your grade, Jack?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack focuses on shoveling food into his mouth to avoid a direct answer, bobbling his head in acknowledgement. For some reason, he didn’t want his father digging around too much in the strange companionship that had developed between him and the boy next door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pops could be scary sometimes… and he didn’t especially seem to like Gabriel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Becca pipes up in Jack’s place though, despite better judgement. “He sure is!” She waves her fork triumphantly. “He and Jack have the same gym class!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack feels himself flush a bit. They were just friends! Having gym with Gabe was the best part of his days some weeks. Every other day in fact, and Jack had even managed to get a locker a couple spaces down from Gabriel’s, close enough that they could still see each other when they changed before and after class-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His father hums critically, snapping Jack away from trailing down into more dangerous adolescent thoughts in full view of his family in the kitchen. The newspaper flicks back into place with a sharp crackle of reality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll make up a little care basket to take to the top of the hill this weekend.” Jack’s mother chimes sweetly, unperturbed by the tone the conversation had taken.  She piles more waffles high onto the platter in the center of the table, then slides another onto her husband’s plate, drizzling homemade syrup for him like a peace offering when he gives her a disapproving look over the tops of his paper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, with her hands firmly on her hips, Jack’s mother turns the full force of her patented Morrison homemaker smile right onto Jack. “You’ll help me take them up, right Jack?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That has Jack’s father folding the paper down onto the table in a huff, like he meant business. “Jules-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh hush, John.” Jack’s mother cuts quickly. “The boy lost his grandmother- and no one else seems to have shown up- of course I’m going to at least bring him a pie!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of his mother’s award winning pies is mouthwatering, but the idea of Gabriel, completely and utterly alone up in the house on the hill, and Jack very naively ignorant to it all was still more than enough to keep his appetite soured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Ma.” He agrees quickly, eager to make some sort of amends, to help in some sort of way. Maybe he could find Gabe in school… maybe talk to him or something. Do something more than just offer him a pie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother beams, and pats his head, smoothing over his blonde cowlick. “That’s my boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is the first part of a hashed out idea written at 1:30am when I couldn’t sleep, and over the course of a weekend has managed to turn into quite a bit more than I originally imagined.  I’m not really sure what happened, but ya know. Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth, right?</p><p>It's my first Overwatch fic, but over the course of this really long quarantine, I've really fallen in love with Reaper76 in the worst of ways, ahahahaha.  </p><p>This fic will most definitely contain some sensitive content, including racism, but I wasn't sure how to tag that? The rating will probably (most definitely) go up in later chapters,  but I apologize in advance and want you to consider yourselves forewarned!</p><p>Named for the english translation of the Mexican song I’ve been really hung up on lately. Worth a listen if anyone is interested: </p><p>Rocio de Todos los Campos - Natalia Lafourcade </p><p> www.youtube.com / watch?v=atYrp4k2nJQ</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>